As expected, it was raining in Nagasaki that day too.

Twenty-five years ago in the spring, my husband and I were on the Sanyo Shinkansen. Our destination was Huis Ten Bosch. It was our honeymoon.

This was the only time I ever rode the Shinkansen with my husband. But there is no way I could remember what we talked about back then. I'm not the type of person who remembers things from 25 years ago in such detail. You can call me cold-hearted if you want. I'm sure we didn't talk about anything important.

We transferred at Hakata, and back then, the only way to get to Nagasaki was by limited express train. For some reason, I clearly remember being very captivated by the Imari ware I saw from the train window.


[[ph🚄🚄🚄]]

Off to Sasebo we went. I really don't remember much about what happened inside Huis Ten Bosch... (Why am I even writing this?) Tulips were blooming beautifully here and there, and windmills were turning. We bought a fairly large Miffy stuffed animal as a souvenir. (Why did we buy such a big stuffed animal at that moment when we were going to keep walking around? It's a mystery.)

Then it was time for dinner. We walked around looking for izakayas and restaurants near Sasebo Station, but everywhere had long wait times. Being short-tempered, I grew increasingly frustrated with my husband, who was taking it easy. (Why do I shift the blame onto my husband so easily? Looking back now, I feel so embarrassed by my queen-like behavior.)

And finally, I snapped. I think part of the reason was that my manic-depressive mood swings were quite intense back then. I cornered him, saying, "Can you just decide on somewhere already?" My husband just humored me with a "Yeah, yeah." I remember we managed to eat at some izakaya-like place. But... if I were a man, I think I would have slapped such a selfish woman.

The next day, it rained. I think the title of the song "Nagasaki wa Kyou mo Ame datta" (It was raining in Nagasaki today too) is wonderful. Because it really does rain there all the time. Thanks to the rain, walking around the vast Huis Ten Bosch was no fun. We browsed the souvenir shops and then quickly headed home.

On the way home, I wonder what people around us thought of the big Miffy I was carrying? Did they just think, "Oh, they're coming back from Huis Ten Bosch"? But looking back now, isn't it a bit strange for a woman in her thirties to be walking around with a giant Miffy? I was immature. This is what they call the follies of youth.

[[ph🐰🐰🐰]]

That stuffed animal still sits in my husband's room today. It's undeniable that it's a bit dusty, but it's still there. It has hardly deteriorated at all. The only reason it's in my husband's room is simply because there's nowhere else to put it.

Maybe it's finally time to bring that Miffy into the center of the house. The Miffy I had completely forgotten about while I was busy taking care of my son.

I probably won't be able to go to the Umbrella Street at Huis Ten Bosch anymore, but it just so happens that there is one near my house too. It's the perfect season for umbrellas, so it might be nice to go check it out.

And the lotus flowers at the nearby botanical garden should be beautiful right now. It might not be a bad idea to go with my husband. From now on, we'll be living our lives together. Let's take it slow so we can avoid fighting.

I love Chisato Moritaka's "Watashi ga Obasan ni Nattemo" (Even If I Become an Old Lady). The person who was by my side back then isn't my current husband, but that's life. Still, Chisato Moritaka is something else. Is there anyone else in their fifties who can wear a miniskirt like that and sing and dance so cutely? In a way, she's cuter and more beautiful than she was back then!

I'm starting my note again. For the time being, I'll be updating it three or four days a week. It might even be half the month. I haven't fully recovered yet, so I'll be updating it slowly for a while.

I don't intend to stop my paid magazine either, so I hope you will continue to watch over me warmly. I hope to keep moving forward while still exploring many things. I think it's not a bad thing to stop and stand still when you can't see what's ahead.